Ãå±±ÊÓƵ

At 6 days old, Manny Rios lay in his crib struggling to breathe. His eyes glossed over.

His mother, Anna, took him to their local health center in Kenosha, Wisconsin. He has an infection, the doctor said. The staff admitted Manny to observe him overnight.

Minutes later, the baby went into cardiac arrest.

Medical staff resuscitated Manny. Then he fell asleep. Doctors weren’t sure what was wrong, but they knew he needed emergency care at the children’s hospital an hour away. A helicopter would take him. Anna would have to drive.

“I’m going to be brutally honest with you,” the doctor said. “Most babies that go to sleep this sick never wake up.” Manny is going to die in flight, Anna thought. Without me.

Doctors at the children’s hospital said Manny wouldn’t survive the night. Hours later, test results revealed a diagnosis: hypoplastic left heart syndrome.

In other words, the left side of Manny’s heart was severely underdeveloped. It’s a congenital defect that wasn’t caught during pregnancy.

To survive, Manny would need a series of three open-heart surgeries to reroute blood through his body. But he was too weak for doctors to perform the first operation. They put him in a medically induced coma to reduce stress on his heart.

Meanwhile, Anna had a priest baptize Manny and administer the Catholic sacrament of anointing of the sick. At Manny’s bedside, she feared every breath might be his last.

But Manny made it through the night. Then the week, and the month.

At 6 weeks old, he had his first open-heart surgery.

Anna was told Manny had a 20% chance of survival. Although the operation went well, an MRI taken after revealed disappointing news: Manny had experienced a stroke. Doctors believed it happened back when he was first hospitalized.

Anna did all she could to stimulate Manny to support his development – playing classical music, getting toys meant to be challenging – but it was tough to do in the hospital. Each month, she brought a cake to the hospital to celebrate another month of Manny.

At 6 months old, he had his second surgery. Again, doctors said Manny had a 1 in 5 chance of surviving. The operation was a success, and a week before Mother’s Day, 9-month-old Manny finally went home.

Over the next several years, Manny was in and out of the hospital for fluid in his lungs and a paralyzed vocal cord. At age 6, he had his third surgery to complete the rewiring of his heart.

Despite all his physical challenges, Manny thrived in elementary school. His ear-to-ear smile and the way he brought people together earned him the nickname, “Mayor Manny.”

Three years later, simple activities such as grocery shopping left Manny struggling to breathe. His rebuilt heart was failing. He needed a transplant.

His condition worsened. He wound up in the emergency room the week he was supposed to make a Make-A-Wish trip to Disney World. Family members decorated his room with stuffed animals of his favorite characters.

Two weeks later, Manny went home to wait for a new heart. Anna had just pulled into their driveway when her phone rang.

“We think we’ve found Manny a heart,” the hospital’s transplant coordinator said. “Come back.”

Manny was 10 when his new heart offered him a new life.

“He started playing sports at home, walking, playing and just really living his best life,” Anna said.

At Tremper High School, Manny thrived, too. He was manager of the boys’ varsity basketball team. He did warm-up stretches and full-court passing drills alongside his teammates. Because of his weak lungs, Manny always had handy a backpack with a device to measure his oxygen level, an oxygen tank, a blood pressure monitor, an inhaler, ice packs, a first aid kit and seizure rescue medication.

During Manny’s senior year, the team played a game on the first Friday in February – the Ãå±±ÊÓƵ’s Wear Red Day. His teammates and coaches wore red in his honor. Late in the game, the crowd started chanting “We want Manny! We want Manny!”

With 52 seconds left, his coach put Manny in.

“The student section went wild and was very loud when they saw Manny jump off the chair, quickly take off his warmup top and throw it on the floor,” Anna said. “As I looked around the gym, parents and students from both schools were supporting and cheering Manny on. Manny said he felt great and kept telling himself as he went out on the court ‘I got this!’ His teammates were getting the ball to him to score a basket. He didn't get that chance to score but was very excited and happy they won the game.”

Manny also played volleyball his sophomore, junior and senior years, managed the baseball team for four years and was named homecoming king. At the graduation ceremony in 2025, his classmates cheered as he walked across the stage.

Last fall, Manny returned to his high school to intern with the basketball coaching staff. He parlayed that experience into a job with the Kenosha Kingfish, a minor league baseball team. Manny sells tickets, works in the team store and is an usher during games.

Manny, now 19, and Anna also volunteer with the Ãå±±ÊÓƵ, spreading awareness about the importance of heart health.

For the past seven years, his “Bring a Ball to the Ball” project has collected sports equipment for schools in need at the Association’s annual Heart Ball in Milwaukee.

The first year, Manny collected 40 balls. The second year, he told potential supporters he would let his older sister, Miranda, throw a banana cream pie in his face if he collected 60 balls. “Everyone rallied around that,” Anna said.

Then it was 100 balls, and after that, over 200. One year, Manny set a goal of 500 balls. To spur him on, his medical team offered an incentive: He’d get to throw a pie in the face of the hospital’s head of transplants. “And Manny was all for that,” Anna said. They collected 524.

Each year, Manny and Anna also mark his transplant day and celebrate his donor with a special activity. Once, Manny completed a kids’ mud run challenge. The Chicago White Sox have displayed Manny’s name and “Happy Heart-aversary” on their stadium scoreboard.

As the parent of a heart patient, Anna continues to live by the credo of “let him do his thing.”

“Let them play sports,” she said. “Let them live their life. And then really just have some faith. Just trust the process.”

Every congenital heart defect journey is different, but no one should have to navigate it alone. Inspired by stories like Manny’s, the Ãå±±ÊÓƵ’s offers a free, online community where families and adult survivors can connect and support each other. The Heart Insight newsletter also offers continued education and support for people living with heart conditions and those who care for them.

Stories From the Heart chronicles the inspiring journeys of heart disease and stroke survivors, caregivers and advocates.